We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes
by Mr. Apology And Co
Summary: We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes is the first, in a trilogy, based upon the classic tale of Alice In Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, 1865. The first novel is a prequel and focuses on several main characters. Grounded, gritty and realistic.


_CHAPTER ONE_ | **_PILOT_**

 _T_ he aristocratic establishment was garnished with a smoky, almost noir-like ambiance and it was scented with the fragrance of perfume and cigarette smoke. It was seated to maximum capacity, the establishment, and the cigarette smoke continued to disappear into dim the ceiling. The establishment seated forty eight individuals, although another twenty stood by where the refreshments are served. Each table was small and round, made of dark oak and seated three matching chairs. On each table, in the center, a glass ashtray resided for the extinguished cigarette stubs. Dark ceramic, unglazed tile blanketed the floor of the establishment and the walls were surrounded by a dark colored stone. The walls had been decorated with mirrors, dimly cast lamps, photographs and sculptures. In the right corner of the establishment were the gentlemen's and ladies restrooms and on a locked door, neighboring the refreshment counter, read the words: _Owners Access Only_ , on a plaque. Two spotlights painted a small stage, which comprised of a modest metal chair and a silver, metallic, vintage microphone.

Whilst the complete absence of sound had presented itself within the establishment, a young, attractive man began to confidently amble himself from the refreshment counter to the gloomy stage. Walking by seated individuals, the captivatingly handsome man grinned, broadly, at selected women. When they would return the gesture, he winked and watched as their cheeks flushed with red.

His attire consisted of a gray dress jacket, black dress shoes, gray dress pants and a gray dress shirt. The handsome man was five-eleven, in height, and shared a lanky, yet muscular body build. He had short brown hair, which darkened in the sunlight and mesmerizing, hazel brown eyes. His facial features were divine and celestial – a strong jawline, high cheekbones and a straight nose. A flawless Caucasian tone and refined tastes presented him as a respectful, noble individual in his late twenties.

Treading onto the stage, the spotlights radiated onto his tasteful ensemble of clothing, and he sauntered over to the vintage stand. Gently placing a hand atop, he spoke into the microphone. His bold, seductive voice voyaging throughout the establishment,

"Good evening, and welcome to Hemingway & Maudsley's," he adjusted the bottom of his dress jacket. "I perceive _fresh_ and familiar individuals among us tonight. To fill your curiosity, if it is not obvious, my name is Elijah Maudsley," he gestured to his attire with a marvelous grin.

Modest laughter pervaded throughout the establishment, and as Elijah continued to communicate with the audience, he observed several new individuals. Bartholomew Rochester and his six day spouse, Margery, had not been properly acquainted with the establishment but Elijah distinguished pleasure amongst his presence as he peered at the eighth table from the left. Theodore Ramsay, his sister Maggie and her husband Edmund Braithwaite had been seated at the second table from the right. Theodore had recently stumbled into a large fortune and could ultimately provide the proper payment with regard to the refreshment counter. Elijah glanced over at the first table on the left and gestured a welcome to Callaghan Eltringham, whom refused to gesture back. Examining the establishment for any other new individuals, Elijah could distinguish a figure at the end of the refreshment counter. The figure was blanketed in darkness, due to the two spotlights above Elijah, but the silhouette was recognizable, by way of the donning of a black hood and black sunglasses.

"…Although," Elijah continued, "tonight we present four wonderful, very talented entertainers. I encourage you to relax and above all, have a _pleasant_ evening." The entire audience had begun to applaud, "Please provide a warm welcome to our first entertainer, Ms. Genevieve Aguillard."

The applause continued to suffuse throughout the establishment and Elijah remained positioned at the vintage microphone. He surveyed as a charming woman, Genevieve, wandered from her chair to the stage. She clutched a fiddle in one palm and acknowledged the acclamation with her other, a breathtaking glow upon her skin. Genevieve sauntered onto the somber stage and Elijah welcomed her with a cordial embrace. He observed as she took position at the microphone and Elijah, inaudibly, exited the stage.

Genevieve commenced performing a folk song she wrote, entitled "Take Me Home", and Elijah moseyed through the audience, as expressions displayed absolute pleasure. Elijah glanced over at Callaghan Eltringham, addressing him with a modest nod and received an expression of pure belligerence. Disregarding Callaghan's dastardly behavior, Elijah directed his surveillance to the silhouette at the end of the refreshment counter. Sauntering over to the disguised individual, he listened as Genevieve continued to entertain,

 _Take me home, take me home._

 _While I'm still young, and barley grown._

 _Take me home, take me home._

 _While I'm still young, and barley grown_ _._

The individual modelled a scent of a wet rose, which was captivatingly charming and Elijah stationed himself alongside the being. He observed the smoke riddled, murky stage before scrutinizing the concealed individual. A black, zipped, hooded sweatshirt had kept the individual's hair obscure. Black sunglasses had masked several facial features and the emotionless expression displayed a sense of concentration. Leaning against the refreshment counter, the individual modelled tight, black jeans and fashionable black boots.

"Her voice is simply lovely," the individual pronounced in a soft, endearing tone.

"Sincerely wonderful," Elijah exhaled, peering at Genevieve, only to study the disguised individual. "What _are_ you doing?" he exasperated as he placed his hands in the pocket of his gray dress pants.

"Discovering pleasure in her voice," the individual proclaimed with a playful smirk beneath the sunglasses.

"You were always _so_ humorous," he said with a sardonic meaning, "you could have been an entertainer."

The individual scoffed and averted attention, from the smoky stage, to Elijah.

"How did you know?" the individual asked, gloomily.

"Your perfume; a scent I have _detested_ since childhood. Moreover, the red paint upon your nails," he leered as the individual placed both hands in the pockets of the black, zipped, hooded sweater. "You should not be here."

"I may _be_ wherever I please."

"Your attire says otherwise," Elijah protested. "Why are you _here_?"

"Is it not obvious?" the individual smirked, sneeringly.

" _Excruciatingly…_ and I have become rather exasperated by this game," he admitted. "If you do not vacate the premises on your own accord, I will have Christopher escort you to The Hill by carriage."

"Were you always this serious?" the individual inquired, playfully placing a thumb in the dimple of Elijah's chin.

Elijah briskly and assertively grasped the individual's wrist,

"I am not playing your _childish_ games," he murmured, " _Evangeline_."

"Why not?" she inquired, lowering her arm. "Afraid you will lose?"

Elijah, acrimoniously, released hold of her wrist and adjusted his dress jacket. He scuffed the side of his flawless cheek and drew awareness to the gloomy stage. Genevieve had concluded her entertainment for the evening and the audience initiated an applause.

"I am here for him," he heard Evangeline declare, through the ovation.

Depriving Evangeline of a final glance, he adjusted his cufflinks and ambled in the direction of the stage. The establishment continued to roar with acclaim, and Elijah displayed an appreciable smirk as he made way through the smoke riddled spectators. As he arrived at the stage, Elijah commenced joining the ovation as he wandered over to Genevieve, embracing her, graciously. She blessed the audience with a kind gesture as she exited the stage, and Elijah assumed position at the vintage microphone,

"Another applause for Ms. Genevieve Aguillard," Elijah encouraged, distinguishing a delightful expression upon her beautifully weathered countenance.

Elijah monitored as she perched herself upon her seat and he peered into the establishment, the two spotlights near overwhelming.

"For the forthcoming entertainer, please provide a cordial welcome to an individual whom I deem as my own brother." Elijah said, candidly, surveying Evangeline at the refreshment counter, "My _family._ " With a warm grin, he gestured towards an individual in the audience, "Benjamin Hemingway."

An exceptionally handsome individual, Benjamin, had extinguished his cigarette into the ashtray that resided on table ten and he joyously smirked at the applauding crowd. He grasped the acoustic guitar that rested at the leg of the dark oak table and erected from his chair. As he dawdled through the establishment, he lightly touched the shoulder of those he knew well, a hospitable smirk upon his unblemished face. Applause still evident, Benjamin strolled upon the smoky, somber stage and warmly embraced Elijah. He grinned broadly, surveying as Elijah exited the stage and ambled to the refreshment counter. Taking position at the vintage microphone, Benjamin commented,

"I would like to utilize this opportunity to credit Elijah for _not_ calling me _Benny_ ," a playful smirk upon his features bloomed as the establishment erupted in laughter.

His attire comprised of a black crewneck sweater, black boots and straight, dark blue jeans. Benjamin was an uncommonly handsome individual, whom was five-ten, in height, and modelled a well-toned figure. His shadowy brown, nearly black, hair hung just over his ears and was in eternal disarray. He possessed extraordinarily intense blue eyes, which were contrasted beautifully against darkened lashes and eyebrows. Benjamin wore a light complexion, with olive undertones, and displayed a strong bone structure – with high cheekbones, a solid jawline and a constant seductive smirk. A pristine Caucasian tone and athletic body build presented him as a young, alluring individual in his early twenties.

Benjamin adjusted the microphone stand by lowering it, leveled to the modest metal chair and took place upon it. Peering out into the murky audience, his light blue eyes ever so fierce, he inaugurated performing a folk song he wrote, entitled "Bury Me". A melancholy, weary tone arose from his coquettish smirk and he closed his eyes, the heat of the two spotlights illuminating his immaculate complexion,

 _Bury me, oh, bury me._

 _Beneath the dirt and stone._

 _Bury me, oh, bury me._

 _Beneath the dirt and stone._

 _This life has been so kind to me._

 _Think it's time to let it go._

 _Bury me, oh, bury me._

 _Beneath the dirt and stone._

 _I seen 'bout enough of this world._

 _I seen a young boy cryin', poor boy,_

 _Blood had covered his knees._

 _I asked him where he been, poor boy,_

 _Blood had covered his knees._

 _He said, "I seen 'bout enough of this world", poor boy,_

' _Bout enough of this world._

 _I asked him where he been, poor boy._

' _Bout enough of this world._

 _Followed through the hilltop._

 _So, I could shout my name._

 _Followed through the hilltop._

 _So, I could shout my name._

 _Got so god damn lonely._

 _Prayed I could see her face, poor boy._

 _I seen 'bout enough of this world._

 _So, bury me, oh, bury me._

 _Lay me down to rest._

 _Bury me, oh, bury me._

 _Lay me down to rest._

 _This life has been so kind to me._

 _Think it's time to let it go._

 _Bury me, oh, bury me._

 _Beneath the dirt and stone._

 _I seen 'bout enough of this world, poor boy._

' _Bout enough of this world._

 _Shovel out the dirt, poor boy,_

 _And lay my body deep._

 _Shovel out the dirt, poor boy,_

 _Lay my body deep._

 _Oh, bury me, oh, bury me._

 _Beneath the dirt and stone._

 _Bury me, oh, bury me._

 _Lay me down to rest, poor boy._

 _Think it's time to go._

 _This life has been so kind to me._

 _Think it's time to let it go._

 _I seen 'bout enough of this world, poor boy._

' _Bout enough of this world._

The audience broke into a roaring applause and Benjamin rose from the modest metal chair, a pleasurable smirk beneath his impeccably modelled nose. He gestured appreciation to the audience and peered at Elijah, who was sauntering onto the stage. Wandering over to him, Benjamin delightedly embraced Elijah.

"Impeccable performance, brother," he heard Elijah mutter, and he inspected him with a look of gratification.

Elijah nodded and Benjamin tapped his shoulder before exiting the smoky stage. As Benjamin moseyed through the crowd, he heard Elijah, through the vintage microphone, acknowledged his performance on stage and each individual, within the establishment, had applauded once more. Benjamin made way, acoustic guitar in hand, to the locked door, neighboring the refreshment counter, which read: Owners Access Only. He benevolently placed the acoustic guitar on the dark ceramic, the resonance of Elijah's bold, noble voice introducing the following entertainer had become rather deafening, and he withdrew a silver key from the pocket of his dark blue jeans. Unlocking the door, Benjamin grasped the acoustic guitar from the floor and entered a small, carpeted landing. As he secured the door, the noise from within the establishment had dwindled unto complete tranquility.

The minuscule, carpeted, landing was gloomy and ill-lit. The surrounding walls wore a beige, with a white trim and ceiling. At the fore of Benjamin stood a carpeted staircase, leading to a similar landing and a white, panelled door with a silver knob.

Benjamin had commenced ascending the carpeted stairs before he reached the white, panelled door at the landing. With his vacant hand, he rotated the silver knob and opened the pale door. He gently fastened the door behind him and sauntered in the direction of the sitting room couch, depositing the acoustic guitar atop.

The sitting room was modest, as was the entire apartment, and it was shrouded with a dreary atmosphere. The windows, within the sitting room, encouraged the evening twilight in through the natural gloom of the apartment. The complete apartment, especially the sitting room, was embellished with the enticing aroma of fresh coffee beans and bourbon whiskey. The sitting room could potentially seat a summation of five individuals, consisting of a brown, fabric couch and two parallel armchairs. Decorative pillows resided on the couch and two armchairs, and positioned on the floor, ahead of the couch, lay a modish coffee table. A glass ashtray rested atop the coffee table and several extinguished cigarettes had inhabited the dish. Beneath the couch and coffee table, a beige carpet had dwelled and flaunted several cigarette burns. A large, lingering, dark oak bookcase was perched athwart the couch and had been stocked densely. Dark, hardwood floors blanketed the sitting room, and the walls were decorated with a beige paint, with a white trim and ceiling. The walls had been enhanced with, ebony farmed, black and white photographs of smoky woodlands, drylands and lakes. A coal-black mounted mirror had been displayed upon the wall neighboring the white, panelled door entrance. The ceiling light and wall lamps granted illumination within the gloomy sitting room, and on the left wall, from the entrance, rested a white, panelled bedroom door. Diagonal from the entrance, a room divider viewed into a contemporary kitchen, which encompassed the familiar noir-like presence the sitting room possessed.

Wandering curiously into the dismal kitchen, Benjamin immediately drew awareness to the bottle of bourbon that had been ensconced upon the island. He gradually pivoted around to a cupboard, opening it, and clutched at the first modest whiskey glass. Securing the cupboard, he gyrated around to the island and poured the bourbon into the whiskey glass. With an expression of contentment upon his unrivaled countenance, he raised the glass to his tempting lips and indulged.

The kitchen was minuscule, with contemporary and somber features. Two windows occupied the wall athwart from the room divider and the innate smoky ambiance was undeviating. The fragrance of the kitchen had been enticed by the overwhelming presence of intoxicants, residing within the cupboards. The kitchen could potentially ensconce four individuals, due to the fashionable stools at the foot of the island. The voguish, dingy kitchen was in the formation of an "L" symbol and had consisted of high, gray gloss cabinetry, white Ceasarstone countertops, and stainless steel appliances. In the center, an island was situated which comprised of identical cabinetry and countertop as the whole kitchen. Resting atop the island, athwart from the four stools, stood a stainless steel sink and drainboard. Dark ceramic, unglazed tile sheltered the floor, and the walls incorporated a beige brick pattern. Three pendant ceiling lights, above the island, had permitted brilliance through the ineluctable gloominess of the apartment. On the left wall, from the room divider, neighboured two white, panelled doors – a second bedroom and a bathroom.

Positioning the vacant whiskey glass atop the Ceasarstone countertop, Benjamin swivelled the bottle of bourbon to a close. For a temporary instant, he remained stationary; his elegant complexion shrouded within the smoky atmosphere of the kitchen. With a modest inhale, he could vaguely make out a distinguishable fragrance and, with an expression of pure discombobulation upon his visage, he curiously ambled to the bathroom. The resonance of flowing water could be perceived and Benjamin eagerly opened the white, panelled door.

The bathroom was rather substantial, with contrast to the kitchen and sitting room, and held a window on the wall athwart from the door. The bathroom shared the indistinguishable dreary attributes of the complete apartment and it ordinarily flaunted a vague aroma of soaps. The bathroom was quite simple, as it encompassed a porcelain toilet, a Ceasarstone countertop and cabinet, a contemporary frameless shower, and a vintage, cast iron, Clawfoot bathtub. Positioned atop of the Ceasarstone countertop, a stainless steel sink had resided alongside an ordinary, black goblet which had embraced several dissimilar bars of soap. Dark ceramic, unglazed tile enveloped the floor, and the walls wore a beige, with a white trim and ceiling. The wall enclosed, by the frameless shower, was sheltered by a beige tile and at the foot of the glass shower door situated a white bathroom mat. The walls had been ornamented with, ink framed, black and white photographs of bleak woodlands and wildlife. Above the stainless steel sink, a tenebrous framed mirror adorned the wall and enabled the gloominess of the bathroom reflection. Recessed lighting had brightened the dull bathroom and blanketed the walls and ceramic with authoritative radiance.

Atop the dark ceramic, unglazed tile, reposed a black, zipped, hooded sweatshirt, a white bra, black jeans and black boots. Neighboring the stainless steel sink, black sunglasses had been positioned and the delicate fragrance of a wet rose had comfortably situated itself throughout the bathroom. Behind the glass door, of the frameless shower, the rushing water had been entertaining the buttocks of an individual. As the figure rotated around, Benjamin wore a mien of pure, unadulterated astonishment.

Evangeline was an exceedingly elegant woman, whom was five-seven, in height, and reflected an exquisitely willowy figure. Her long, straight, dark brown hair swung beneath her shoulders, although it was currently drenched by shower water. Almond-shaped, vigorous brown eyes were complemented by thick, dark eyelashes upon her exemplary tone. Evangeline modelled an olive complexion, and flaunted an admirable bone structure – with high cheek bones, an oval visage and suggestive lips. An unblemished Caucasian tone and provocative mannerisms presented her as a young, tempting individual in her early twenties.

Nearly scampering to the glass door, of the frameless shower, Benjamin opened it and was immediately immersed in the mild water. Cupping both hands upon Evangeline's olive, soaked cheeks, he lustfully kissed her enticing lips.

"You must be mad," she modestly chuckled, her voice soft and coquettish as she gestured to his clothing.

"It was absolute _hell_ not beholding you," Benjamin uttered, his tone was kind and his smirk was affectionate. Hands upon Evangeline's face, he began caressing her cheek, his light blue eyes obsessed with every inch of her features.

"I too had grown weary," she rested her hands upon the chest of his, drenched, beige, crewneck sweater.

"How did you get inside?"

"It took a rather irksome amount of persuasion," she expressed, a playful smirk beneath her button nose, "but Elijah eventually surrendered his key."

She kissed Benjamin, the shower water had produced a shimmering luminescent off her nude figure, and she grasped his hands, lowering them to her sides. With an additional kiss, she informed him,

"Incidentally, you looked astonishing upon the stage this evening."

Fondling his hands atop her sides, Benjamin commenced kissing her neck, in an erotic manner. She moaned from sexual pleasure and lowered her hand down to his phallus, slowly stroking it through his dark blue jeans.

"If I could embrace you for all eternity, I would," he breathed, as his lips continuously met her neck.

"We merely have before midnight," she whispered, her almond-shaped eyes closed, "and then I am compelled to return."

Benjamin gradually ceased to pleasure Evangeline, and he surveyed her through the foggy water.

"I want you all to myself," he nearly wept, his naturally tempting, light blue eyes, had become gloomy.

"One day," she desirably pronounced, elevating her hands to his face. She caressed his cheeks, and affectionately smirked with her encouraging brown eyes, "perhaps."

The shower water had encircled them in a mist and they remained stationary. Caressing one another, Benjamin and Evangeline became crippled within the moment, and blanketed within the gloom of the bathroom.

The bedroom was a rather confined environment, which vaunted a window on the wall athwart from the white, panelled door. A dreary essence had been outspread throughout the bedroom and it paraded the scent of a hygienic fragrance. The bedroom was rather ordinary, as it comprised of a black framed, double mattress bed, two complementary nightstands – one on each side – a black dresser and two, white panelled, sliding closet doors. The double mattress bed accommodated five, white, pillows and a draping white blanket. At the foot of the bed, a white, modest bench had posed in a fashionable stance. Suspended above the window, white curtains had been used to adorn, and they dangled from the frame to the floor. Upon the two equivalent nightstands, an unpretentious, black table lamp, with a beige shade, had modelled atop each. Dark, hardwood floors sheltered the bedroom, and the walls were coated with a beige paint, with a white trim and ceiling. The walls had been furnished with, dark framed, black and white photographs of Benjamin, Elijah, Evangeline and several other individuals from a bygone time. An ink framed, floor mirror had stood in the right corner of the bedroom, neighboring the modish nightstand and the ceiling light, when on, could not alter the gloomy character of the bedroom.

She inaudibly awoke from her slumber, her brown eyes adjusting to the gloomy night. Hoisting her head from above the balmy blanket, she perceived the scintillating moonlight upon her awe-inspiring complexion. She outstretched her arm over Benjamin, who was peacefully in slumber, and clutched at the silver wristwatch on his nightstand. Withdrawing to her half of the mattress, she inspected the silver wristwatch and wore a perplexed expression. Turning on the lamp, that neighboured her, she investigated the silver wristwatch more meticulously.

"Your wristwatch is damaged," Evangeline informed, intently examining as the minute hand remained at six and the second hand quivered at twelve.

Benjamin was awakened, from his slumber, by the ravishing tone of Evangeline, and his provocative, light blue eyes, were weary and riveted by her complexion from the ill-lit lamp.

"If I could wake to your astonishing visage forevermore," Benjamin said, his exhausted tone had turned to affectionate, "I would die an untroubled man."

Evangeline's pigmentation had flushed with red and she considerately positioned the silver wristwatch upon the neighboring nightstand. She leant down and susurrated to Benjamin,

"We are far too young to contemplate notions of death," and she kissed his silken forehead. "I am afraid this is where I must leave you, my love," she brushed her hand through his dark brown, nearly black hair. "I fear it is beyond midnight and my absence will _not_ go unnoticed."

Rising from beneath the blanket and the double mattress, Evangeline planted her feet upon the cold, dark, hardwood floor. Her nude figure had trembled from the bitterness of the floor and she tensely sauntered towards the simple bench at the foot of the bed. The shimmering moonlight and tenebrous lamp had cast itself on her faultless, modest chest and below to her lustrous genitalia. She harvested her clothing from the bench and surveyed Benjamin, who was retreating from the mattress, a yawn upon his natural smirk.

"You are not obligated to escort me," she reassuringly smirked, watching as he ambled to his black dresser and opened the center drawer.

Benjamin seized a pair of straight, black jeans and closed the ebony drawer, rotating around to view Evangeline. With a suggestive smirk, he flaunted his nude form in anticipation of dressing himself.

"I _desire_ accompanying you to The Hill," he expressed, his vivid eyes following hers. "Less conspicuous, in contrast to a disguised woman ambling throughout the city by her lonesome. Besides," he said, gradually zipping up his jeans, "I am not ready for goodbye."

Evangeline broadcasted an affectionate grin and surveyed as he dawdled to the sliding, white panelled, closet door. Clothing in hand, she walked to the gloomy mirror, atop of the floor, and commenced dressing herself. Pulling up her undergarments, she admired her figure for a moment before fitting into the tight, black jeans she wore. She positioned the white bra upon her breasts, securing the strap, and cast the black, zipped, hooded sweatshirt around her spherical shoulders. Firmly zipping the sweatshirt to her neckline, she rested the hood upon her head, concealing her long, brown hair.

Through the looking glass, she could descry Benjamin standing behind her; his black, leather jacket had complimented the white shirt underneath. Her sides became tense as he fondled them, and she glimpsed at his light blue eyes staring at her through the floor mirror. Evangeline allowed her hands to fall upon his and she kneaded his thumbs with both of hers.

"Are you prepared?" she asked, fondly surveying him through the mirror.

As Benjamin shook his head in agony, she turned about, stationing her hand on his pristine cheek, and brushed her lips upon his. She gradually pulled away, hand continuing to caress, and repentantly smirked. Briskly departing the bedroom, Benjamin remained, his light blue eyes suffused with water, and viewed himself in the looking glass before accompanying her.

The luminosity of the moon had bled onto the beige walls of the kitchen and sitting room. Securing the white, panelled, bedroom door behind him, Benjamin escorted Evangeline to the front door. Descrying Evangeline settling her feet within the confined capacity of her black boots, Benjamin promptly emulated with his own and expeditiously opened the white, panelled, apartment door. He gestured for her to saunter through the doorway, his warm smirk was scarcely perceptible through the murkiness of the apartment, and he followed behind her, securing the door to a close.

Ambling down the carpeted staircase, to the modest landing, Benjamin caressed Evangeline's arm as she inaudibly opened the door to the establishment.

The establishment was still and serene, with a vacant stage and unoccupied tables. The dark ceramic, unglazed tile had been cleaned, and it glistened in the gloom of the ceiling lights. Cleansing the first table on the left, from the unilluminated stage, Elijah had been scouring the dark oak with a dampened cloth. As Benjamin benevolently secured the door, he heard Elijah announce,

"You know, brother," he deposited the damp cloth upon the tabletop, "just because you are an entertainer, as _exceptional_ as you are, does not bestow you with the opportunity to shirk your responsibilities." Elijah, with his right hand in the pocket of the gray dress pants, phlegmatically walked over to Benjamin and positioned his left hand upon his shoulder. "Another wondrous performance tonight, brother."

Embracing, Benjamin applauded on Elijah's back in good-nature, and graciously murmured,

"You too, brother," and pulled away with a courteous smirk.

Elijah rotated and had begun to wander away from the refreshment counter and towards the first table, left of the stage. He abruptly ceased, in the middle of the establishment, and turned to face the twosome, unceremoniously pointing a finger at Evangeline.

"You may position the item, from which you _purloined_ from my dress jacket, upon the counter to your left," he said, calmly, his finger now gesturing towards the refreshment counter.

Evangeline reminiscently simpered at Benjamin, and she searched for the item within the narrow pockets of her tight, black jeans. Extracting a silver key, she contently placed it atop the refreshment counter, and complacently smirked at Elijah.

"Not even an _ounce_ of astonishment," Elijah said, his bold, equable voice had become exasperated, "not even a _fragment_ of regard for others," peering at Benjamin, through the noir-like ambience of the establishment, he saw the brooding expression upon his flawless features and promptly returned his hazel brown eyes to Evangeline. "You are nothing, merely but a _child_."

A rather roaring knock had been produced from the white framed, glass front door of the establishment and the three of them curiously observed the entry through the following quietude. The succeeding knock had been further belligerent and Elijah turned his chin to his shoulder and announced,

"We are no longer open."

A bellicose knock had transpired forthwith and Elijah turned to glance at Benjamin, adjuring,

"Conceal her," his finger directing towards the refreshment counter.

Scrutinizing the twosome, Elijah remained immobile until Benjamin had guaranteed Evangeline's welfare, as she crouched down behind the refreshment counter. As another vehement knock was propelled through the establishment, Benjamin curiously and hastily wandered in the direction of Elijah, but was promptly gestured to cease.

Elijah prudently sauntered to the white framed, glass front door of the establishment and identified the visitor as Callaghan Eltringham. Elijah, impassively, unlocked the front door and opened it to acknowledge the unsought guest,

"How may I aid you tonight, Callaghan?" A magnanimous smirk upon his noble features.

Instantaneously, Callaghan had struck Elijah on the bridge of his nose with the barrel of a black, semi automatic, nine millimeter caliber pistol.

" _Elijah!_ " Benjamin shouted, as he immediately inaugurated running to Elijah, but ceased once Callaghan directed the pistol towards him.

Benjamin surveyed, impotently, as Elijah fell to one knee and continued holding his hemorrhaging nose. Elijah produced a meager amount of groans and examined the blood upon the dark ceramic, unglazed tile. Grasping at the white handkerchief that resided in the top pocket of his gray dress jacket, Elijah compressed the white cloth upon his nose. With the blood exuding upon the handkerchief, the white cloth nearly red, he elevated his head to perceive that Callaghan had been directing the weapon at Benjamin. Ascending to his feet, he beheld as Callaghan immediately directed the black, semi automatic, nine millimeter caliber pistol at him.

"I suppose now," Elijah inaugurated, the handkerchief remained clutched upon his nose, "given the contemporary circumstances, would be a rather… _awkward_ moment to offer you a drink."

Elijah surveyed as Callaghan, whose fragrance was of cigarettes and bourbon, scowled at him and maliciously tensed his grasp upon the pebbled grained, black, hard rubber grip. With the phlegmatic appearance upon Elijah's, present, blemished countenance, and the inebriated Callaghan, there was a brief silence, followed by the cocking of the semi automatic.


End file.
